Shouldn't Be Here
by Genesis04
Summary: Sam and Dean's search for their father takes them to a small town in Colorado. There they meet a young woman who is more than she seems. Could she have the answers to all their questions trapped in her mind? takes place after Wendigo and goes AU
1. In the First Place 1 to 3

**Shouldn't Be Here In The First Place**

**Rating: **T - mild violence, mild language

**Disclaimer: **I own very little. Supernatural doesn't belong to me, although, It'd be nice to have my very own set of Winchester brothers to play with

"_She knows _everything_, Dean." "Sam, she's annoying, don't care."_

O0O

**Part 1: **The Twitch

O0O

"So, you think dad was actually here?"

"No idea."

"Wonderful."

Sam and Dean slowly pulled into the parking lot of the local diner in Semper, Colorado. After driving for seven hours straight, they had finally reached their destination. An "interesting disturbance", as the paper called it, had caught Dean's eye the day before - random, unexplained fires.

Dean turned off the car.

"Well, we can at least get something to eat, then check things out." Sam folded up the map, placed it on the dashboard and followed his brother into the diner.

The small bell on the top of the doorjamb signaled the arrival of new customers. The few customers already present turned to look at the new arrivals. Strangers. Looking soon became staring, followed by whispering.

"Well, what a warm welcome..." Dean said under his breath, not moving from the doorway. Sam passed by him and took a seat in a booth by the window, and looked around for the waitress. He saw her, a young woman, maybe his age in faded jeans and a black v-neck sweater, twirling her fingers through her short brown hair while she read a book at the counter. He noticed his older brother giving her a look over as he passed and took the seat across from Sam. She waited another beat before coming over to the Winchesters and setting a menu down in front of each.

"Can I get you boys something to drink?" Dean started asking her what sodas the fine establishment had available while Sam's gaze went to her eyes. A strikingly brilliant green, there seemed to be something unusual about them. Before he knew it those eyes were focusing in on his.

"Now, did you get all that, or shall I repeat?" She asked, with a slight smirk. Sam noticed her fingers kept nervously tapping against her pad of paper.

"Nah, just a coke will do." He smiled and she walked away. Both boys' gaze returned to the menus.

She soon reappeared with their drinks and set them on the table before reaching into her apron to retrieve straws.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" she jerked her regard towards Sam once more.

"Shoot." she replied plainly.

"How often do you get visitors in this town?"

"Not often, you guys are the second and third this year"

"Do you mind if I asked you who the first was?" Dean interjected.

At this question, the girl seemed more nervous than before, her fingers nervously spun her pen around in circles.

"He was a very nice man, about middle aged, mostly kept to himself..." she seemed to be choosing her words carefully, once or twice she looked over at the other booths and the people stealing glances back at her. "He stayed about a week or two at the beginning of last month."

Dean threw an interested look his brother's way, and Sam resumed the questioning.

"Did you ever find out his name?"

She almost visibly winced at this question.

"Um, whenever he came in I called him Mr. Williams, that's the name that was on the credit card he always paid with." Tired of questioning, she decided to change the subject, and took their orders. She wrote them down rather quickly and headed for the kitchen.

Dean watched the young woman as she walked away, Sam couldn't help but notice Dean's eyes roaming up and down, as if a reflex. Dean's gaze turned back to his younger brother's and smiled.

"Dad was here."

Sam looked doubtful.

"How do you know? There must be a million Mr. Williams in the U.S. alone."

Dean just smirked.

"Look at the clock on the wall, Sammy."

Sam turned and looked where he was told. He turned back. "Okay, it's 12:46. What of it?"

Dean lifted his arm so Sam could read the watch on his wrist; it said 7:15pm. Sam turned back to the clock and stared at it for a few moments.

"It's stuck," he said plainly.

"Damn right it's stuck." Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the raggedy journal. He opened it up to the back and took out a loose piece of paper with the same sequence of numbers written all over it. 12:46.

"I found this in the hotel room back in Jericho."

"Alright, boys, here's your burgers. Can I get you anything else?"

The waitress was lightly smiling until she saw the journal. She twitched. Sam saw it.

"Uh yeah, this man, Mr. Williams, did he look like this?" Sam pulled an old picture out of his pocket and showed it to the girl. She looked at it and her left eye let out another faint twitch. She shook her head.

"No, he was older and had different color hair." She shoved that smile back onto her face and strolled off to refill coffees.

Sam looked at his brother.

"Dad was here."

O0O

**Part 2: **Marty?

O0O

She found that after they were done asking her questions, the boys were rather friendly. They'd been talking off and on for the past two hours while she moved about the small diner helping the dissipating customers. She just hoped they didn't ask her any more questions about _him_.

"You know, I just realized, I don't know your names," she stated, sliding into the booth next to Dean after the last customer left.

"I'm Dean, this is Sam. And you're Martha." Dean said, indicating to the bright green nametag on her sweater, spending an extra beat or two with his eyes on the spot. The faintest of smiles crossed his features and he leaned back in his seat.

"Oh, please, only people over the age of sixty call me Martha. Marty's fine."

"Marty." Dean repeated, Sam rolled his eyes and looked out the window. It was starting to rain.

A slight lull in the conversation arose and Marty slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out something brightly colored and began playing with it.

"So, what are you boys in town for?" She asked, her fingers busily working the glittering plastic.

Dean spoke up first. "Well, me and Sam are geologist majors at UCLA and we went on a trip out here to see the Rocky Mountains and take some rock samples from the Garden of the Gods."

"The Garden of the Gods is in Colorado Springs," Marty stated, "That's a ways from here."

"Well, that's on our way." Sam interjected. "We're heading down there soon."

Marty nodded and her gaze drifted away, watching her boss slip into the back room. She turned back to Sam and snatched up his gaze, holding it fast, her eyes flashing and determined.

"You won't find what you're looking for here, Sam. The answer's not here, not anymore. Your dad couldn't find it, and neither can you."

Dean watched his brother's face then sat forward and looked at the girl.

"Marty?" He asked tentatively.

She seemed to snap out of whatever, and turn to Dean with a smile that was so warm it could melt ice.

"Well boys," she said after another beat. "It's been great, but I have to clean up now, we're closing."

She got up and left them their check, saying they could pay at the register.

Dean slid into the Chevy two seconds after his brother.

"Well, she was nice," he said, turning on the car. "Except when she just stared at you like that, kind of weird. But I guess it's just these remote mountain folk. Weird."

"She knows more than she lets on. What do you think she meant when she said that?"

"When she said what?" Dean asked, pulling out of the parking lot and driving toward the hotel she had told them about.

"Back there, like 2 minutes ago. Before she gave us the check." Sam said.

"What are you talking about, Sammy, she didn't say anything."

"Yeah she did, she said that I wouldn't find what I'm looking for, and that the answer's not here anymore and dad couldn't find 'it', whatever 'it' is... I'm telling you, she knew dad."

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and stopped the car to look at his brother.

"Sammy, I think we need to get you into bed. You haven't slept much and you're starting to hallucinate."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, whatever man, I know what happened." He got out of the car and headed for the hotel.

O0O

**Part 3:** Dreams

O0O

He couldn't sleep. That damn light was too bright. Dean rolled over in his weird-smelling bed and looked over at Sam.

"You mind? Not all of us are nocturnal."

Sam was flipping through his father's journal; he didn't look up from it.

"I know she said it Dean, I know what I heard."

Dean sat up. "Sammy,"

"It's Sam"

"Sam, let's say she did say it. Only to you. Then in order for her to do that, she'd not only have to be psychic, but also able to block out her conversations from whoever she wants. That requires power, she's far too young to have that much."

Sam was silent for a moment.

Dean nodded like that solved it. "Sleep. Now." He reached over and turned off the light and went back to bed. Sam shook his head and lay down too, placing the journal on the nightstand.

_One drop. Two drops. What's that? Open eyes, JESS! On the ceiling, stuck. Blood, on her dress, when did she get that dress? "NO!" No! Not her too. Not again. She gasps. Oh God, no... Flames! Fire, she's on fire! God, I love her so much. Someone grabs hand, pulls me away. It's Dean, but his hands aren't his. Pull out of the room and slams the door._

_It's her. Marty._

"_You won't find what you're looking for here, Sam. The answer's not here, not anymore. Your dad couldn't find it, and neither can you."_

_She says. Then she turns into Dean, pulls me away out of the flaming house._

Sam sat up in bed, waking with a start, covered in sweat. He gasped for breath. Damn he hated dreaming. He saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Dean, sitting on the bed, fully clothed, ready to go, a look of concern plastered on his face.

"You had another one, didn't you?" He said as more of a statement than a question. Sam gave a faint nod, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"She was in it. Martha, Marty." He said, shaking it off and getting out of bed. "She said the same thing she said in the diner." He picked up the shirt he discarded last night and pulled it over his head. Dean scratched the back of his neck.

"I need coffee."


	2. In the First Place 4 to 5

**Shouldn't Be Here In The First Place**

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, still don't own it. Oh and I don't own Tangle(R) either. Don't sue, I'm dead broke. Oh and Semper, CO does exist, but here is my fictional version of it.

**Spoilers:** at least for the first two episodes, it kind of goes AU from there.

**Rating: **T for some language and mild violence

**A/N: **This chapter may be confusing with flashbacks. Sorry if you get lost.

**A/N: **the toy I have Marty play with is called Tangle. Google it if you're clueless about it.

O0O

**Part 4:** Tangles

O0O

The second screech was louder than the first.

"SAM!"

"I'M TRYING! ... Dolci Upanium!" It wasn't working. Every chant he tried just seemed to make it worse, make her pain increase.

Dean leaped over the fallen beam, and ducked under the levitated Marty to get to his brother who was frantically searching through the journal.

"Anytime now would be great."

"Dean! Shut the hell up! ... Klarcinius Pozan!" The third scream was a little more subdued, not as loud. Sam looked up hopefully at Marty, but he only saw that the spirit had her by her neck now, and was squeezing. Marty turned to look at him, her face turning purple and tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Last... page." Was all she could gasp out before her whole body went limp.

Sam frantically flipped to the last page of the journal.

"Here! ... Slankti Uzarniasium!" His eyes shot to Marty's spiritless figure. Whatever was holding her, the apparition in the form of an undefined body, seemed to disappear. Dean flew to where she was, placing himself under her. When the Thing had fully dissipated, she fell, hitting him in the chest and almost knocking him over. He cradled her in his arms, one arm under her back, the other under her knees. He slowly turned around to look at Sam, who was catching his breath. Dean stepped over a fallen beam to get back to Sam's side. Sam immediately put his fingers to her throat, checking for a pulse. He nodded when he found one, faint, but still there.

"Well," Dean said in his usual lightening-the-mood tone. "That was close."

"Dean," Sam's tone was warning, "We almost killed her."

"Hey," Dean snapped, "She had a choice."

"Not much of one."

O0O

12 hours earlier

O0O

"Coming!" Marty scrambled to pull her black, long-sleeve shirt over her head before she answered the knocking on her apartment door. She smoothed the shirt out and opened the door with a smile.

"Sam, Dean. What a pleasant surprise" her smile never faltered as she stepped back to let the Winchester's in. Marty couldn't help but notice Dean's eyes rake over her as he passed. A slight blush rose on her cheeks and she quickly closed the door.

"Come on in, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"

Sam followed Dean over to the living area where two "vintage" couches faced each other.

"Uh, no I'm fine."

Dean however, "Uh coffee sounds great." He flashed her a smile and sat down, quickly making himself at home, resting his foot on the equally "vintage" coffee table. Marty nodded and headed to the kitchen. Sam went for the seat across from Dean smacking his leg as he passed, indicating it wasn't the politest thing for his foot to be there. Dean gave Sam a look, and then put his foot back down on the floor.

"Uh, nice place you got here..." he said loudly so Marty could hear him in the next room.

"Liar. This place is a dump!" The two could hear her light laughing. The next sound to be heard was dishes clattering. Sam looked around the small apartment at the various knickknacks and old books, some of which looked quite ancient. One particular thing caught his eye. A clear Crystal ball sat on a small round table in the corner, a maroon tablecloth sat under it, and a small book beside it. He sat up a little straighter to maybe read the title on the front cover of the book. Dean noticed this and turned to look at what his brother was looking at.

"Find something interesting, boys?" Marty stood beside the couch that Dean resided in.

Both Winchesters turned to look at their host, each with halfway guilty looks on their faces.

"Uh, yeah," Dean spoke up. Then stalled, looking at her face. It seemed so... challenging, as if she was baiting him to say something about the oddity in the corner.

"The decor in this room..."

"Are you a psychic?" Sam interjected.

"Well, that was blunt." Marty stated and placed the tray with two coffee mugs, milk and sugar she was holding on the coffee table.

She ignored the look Dean was giving Sam, and plopped her butt on the arm of the couch that still housed the eldest Winchester.

"My dad bought those for me." She started, her eyes watching the ball, as if daring it to move on it's own. "He wanted me to be a psychic, mainly because then he would have a nice living. He was convinced that he could push me into a major circuit and that soon I would be sitting next to Dionne Warwick on a plush couch taking phone calls and paying his bills." She let out a short sardonic laugh.

"But, as the Stones said, you can't always get what you want."

"You know, most parents want their kids to be lawyers and doctors." Dean said, taking a sip from one of the coffee mugs.

"Most kids don't have 'the gift'" Marty's tone, accompanied by finger quotes, dripped with sarcasm.

"And you do?" Sam asked, looking at those insanely green eyes again.

She seemed to actually stop and think about that question for a moment. Dean noticed that her fingers were relentlessly tapping a beat on her thigh.

"Not the one he wanted." She waited a beat before rapidly changing the subject.

"So what brings you two to my side of town?"

Dean stole a glance at Sam then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a more-recent picture of his father.

"Are you sure you haven't seen this man?" He asked, holding the picture out for her to take.

Marty slid off the arm of the couch to sit beside Dean and looked at the picture, but didn't touch it.

Sam watched her closely as she tried to hide a light twitch in her eye.

"Who is he to you?" she asked, focusing her green-coated stare on Dean.

"Our father" Dean told her the truth.

"Why are you looking for him?" she asked another question, her eyes not leaving Dean's. "Have you ever thought maybe he doesn't want to be found?"

"I need to find him," Sam interrupted. Marty threw her gaze at him now, looking into his own eyes intently.

"I already told you Sam, you won't find what you're looking for here."

"So she did say that." Dean spoke up a little, a smirk on his face as he looked at his brother, but the smirk quickly dissipated when he saw the look on Sam's face.

"I have to try," he said, his gaze not leaving hers.

"He was here. He stayed for four days and left. He stayed here, on this couch because the hotel was full for an annual festival and I offered him a place to stay."

Dean raised an eyebrow at this, which earned him a glare from Marty that clearly told him he should stamp out that deranged thought right now.

"Did he ever talk about what he did for a living, or why he was here?"

Marty twitched.

"No" she said.

"You're lying." Sam said suddenly, almost cutting her off. Surprised, Dean looked at his brother with a furrowed brow.

"Sammy..."

Sam ignored his brother's questioning glance.

"You know why he was here. You know more than you're letting on."

"Sam, I can't..." She looked down now, but he still looked at her.

"Sam, cut it out." Dean's voice was sterner now. Sam didn't listen.

"Marty, what aren't you telling us?" She quickly looked up at him; her eyes were filled with something new. Fear.

"Maybe you two should go." She stood up now and started to walk towards the door. But Sam jumped up and was beside her in two steps. And before Dean could stop him he turned her by the elbow to face him. He didn't see her wince of pain at the physical contact.

"Marty..." he started, his voice gentle now as he let go of her arm.

"I can't help! Not anymore!" Marty's voice was more of a yell now, her eyes looking anywhere but at Sam.

"Look, I'm sorry about Jess, but I cannot help you. I'm not cut out for this, I told your father this and he didn't listen either..."

"I never said anything about Jess," Sam interrupted, his voice calm. Marty suddenly threw her gaze at him, mortified. She looked like she let a huge secret slip to the one person she shouldn't have.

Dean was beside them in an instant, looking from one to the other.

"How did you know about Jess?" Sam asked.

"What about Dad?" Dean countered.

Marty looked from one brother to the other. "Shit."

Sam shook his head a little and looked away from Marty and his brother, his eyes wandering around the room.

Marty went to touch him but Dean reached out and took hold of her elbow and turned her back to him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was stopped when he noticed the girl wincing in pain. He quickly let go of her, and her hand flew to her arm.

Dean's face sobered and he reached out, taking her wrist in his hands.

"Can I?" he said, looking into her eyes.

Marty found herself nodding slightly. Dean held her wrist gently with one hand, and with the other he slowly lifted her sleeve up her arm. He kept going until he reached a large red mark. He looked up at Marty, but she was busy inspecting the floor.

He moved the sleeve up and over her elbow carefully. When the whole of the mark was in view, Dean nodded knowingly.

By this time, he had Sam's attention.

"What did you two fight?" Dean asked the girl. She shook her head.

"A poltergeist of some kind."

Sam looked over the mark his brother had discovered. It was a dark red color, like the color of blood. It was in the shape of a large hand, wrapping around her arm.

O0O

**Part 5:** Reasons

O0O

"By the time he was here for two days, I started asking questions about what he was doing in town. He had a big duffle bag that he never opened and about five books with names that were in Latin." Marty sat on the couch next to Dean and across from Sam.

"He said he was a private investigator. I didn't believe him. So he told me the truth. That he was here trying to find the origin of the fires."

"Did he?" Dean asked, eager to hear more about his father.

"He thought he did. There's an old church just outside of town. It's ancient, falling apart. About fifty years ago it was burned almost to the ground during a church service by a group of witches. The fire killed seven people, including the Pastor's daughter. Your father thought that the Pastor was seeking revenge on the families of the witches, seeing as the only victims of the fires were related to the original fire starters."

"So it was just a regular eye for an eye deal?" Dean asked, not sure if he was relieved or let down at that fact.

"So he thought. We found out that the Pastor had been buried next to the church. So we went to burn the bones..."

"Wait, we?" Sam interrupted. Marty nodded his way.

"Yes, we. I asked if I could help and he let me."

"That doesn't sound like dad," Dean looked at his younger brother. "Just letting a... a civilian into that mess." Sam shrugged and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"He said that with my... special 'gift' that I could be useful."

"You said you didn't have the 'gift,'" Sam said skeptically.

"I said I didn't have the one my father wanted. I never said I didn't have one."

Dean cocked an eyebrow, but was stopped from speaking when Marty continued her story.

"So we went to the church and found the bones and he salted and burned them. And another house caught fire."

_O0O_

_Three Weeks Ago_

_O0O_

_John Winchester scratched his head as he watched the firefighters douse the house across the street with a heavy stream of water. _

"_I thought you said that we fixed the problem..." the young girl beside him spoke up, her voice small under the roar of the flames. _

"_I thought we did Marty. I thought we did." John turned on his heel and headed back to the church, adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder. Marty appeared beside him a few moments later, jogging to keep up._

"_You have another idea?" _

"_Working on it." _

_They soon came upon the house. It had to be around midnight as John stepped onto the termite-infested porch, walking slowly, silently praying he didn't fall through the wood._

_Marty watched him walk up the stairs and disappear into the old building._

"_Guess we're going in this time..." She looked around her, seeing nothing in the dark, but the light from the house fire two blocks away. She took a deep breath, plucked up the courage, and followed the older man into to the building. _

_The second she passed over the threshold she was hit with a wave of screams reverberating through her head. She let out a small scream herself before falling to her knees on the charred floorboards._

"_Marty?" John found his companion rocking back and forth, her hands clamped down on her ears in an attempt to stop the noise that only she could hear. _

"_Marty, focus on something else. Focus on your work! How many customers did you have yesterday? How much did you get in tips? How many times did you trip?"_

"_John" her voice was small, and pained. "John, it's the daughter. The pastor's daughter."_

_John heard a crash on the other side of the doorway that led into the sanctuary. He reluctantly hurried to see the origin of the noise. He released his rifle from his duffle with ease and carefully searched the large room. The roof was half gone and the remains of pews were covered in moss and weeds. _

_A light flickered behind him and he spun around to look. _

_A bright, fiery figure stood next to Marty. The figure looked like a person coated in flames. _

"_Hey!" he yelled to get its attention. The figure turned to him for a moment. He could barely make out the outline of a face before the figure turned back to her target. _

_John reached into his pocket for a rock salt bullet while he watched the inferno reach out and grab Marty by the arms, lifting her up high._

_Marty looked into the face of the thing holding her and screamed. The searing pain of fire licked at her skin mixed with the pressure of its grip. _

_In two gunshots, the fiery figure disappeared._

_Marty had no sooner landed on her feet than she was being hastily pulled out of the front doorway of the building. As soon as her foot was on the porch, the voices in her head died down. _

"

_Are you ok?" John Winchester looked into the frightened eyes of the girl. _

_She was shaken up, to be sure, but was she actually hurt. He looked down to inspect her arms. His jaw dropped. There were two large handprints burned into the sleeves of her sweatshirt. Upon closer inspection, John noticed that the handprints burned through her shirt as well. When he gently moved the material aside he saw that the handprints had burned their way onto her skin. It looked like a third degree burn, skin peeling and blistering. He looked up at her face again._

_She was looking past him, as if his head was transparent. Then suddenly her eyes focused._

"_They were so loud!" she exclaimed. "So loud and so upset. Some were sad, but she... she was angry." She looked as if she was waiting for a response, but she soon continued without one._

"_She was engaged and she was mad that she was never going to get married." Her eyes wandered off again. "So much anger..."_

"_Marty. We need to get you to a hospital." John said, easing her away from the church._

O0O

"So what happened then?" Dean asked.

"He took me to the hospital, then he found the remains of the pastor's daughter, her name was Rebekah, and he took care of them. When he came to take me home, he got a call on his cell phone, then packed up and was gone."

Sam spoke up. "But, why haven't the fires stopped?"

"That's the real question. Now they happen anywhere, they make no sense, there's no pattern." Marty shrugged and stood up, picking up the tray and walking back into the kitchen.

"There must be something of the daughter's still around..." Dean mused, his mind checking into problem-solving mode.

Sam looked at this brother, opened his mouth to say something, and then shut it. There was no use trying to talk to him now, his mind was busy thinking. Sam shook his head and walked into the kitchen.

"Marty," He started, and then stopped when he was her. She was leaning with her back against the counter, her hands on her hips, as if she were waiting for him.

"Yes, Sam?" she asked, her eyes waiting for him to go on.

"You said that when you walked into the church, that you heard voices, more than usual..."

"Yeah." she said and stepped closer to him. Her voice dropped to a whisper and she gave him a look that reminded him of a scared child.

"I hear dead people," Her face was serious for all of a second before she broke out into a small laugh.

"That's not funny." Sam objected.

"No, it's not. They never leave me alone. They always want to chat." She looked down at her hands, and idly picked at her nails.

"There are some places where they're louder. Where more people have died, or where more people are connected. I hate cemeteries."

"So that's your 'gift'? You talk to the dead." Sam almost unwittingly took a step closer to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Don't call it a gift. It's a fucking curse." Marty looked up to find the young Winchester towering over her. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized that he was standing much closer than he was a second ago.

"We need to find out if there is anything of the pastor's daughter left." When they heard Dean's voice, Sam and Marty jumped away like two guilty teenagers.

Marty spoke first. "If there was anything of her left, it would be at the church. Her childhood home burned down last week."

"Ok, well come on Sammy. I feel the need to get spiritual." Dean headed for the door. Sam threw one last look in Marty's direction before following.

"Wait!" Marty hurried and met him at the door. She pulled a pen out of her pocket and wrote a seven-digit number on his hand.

"If you need anything, call." Sam nodded and headed out.

O0O

Marty's nose twitched. Mr. Morris must have been smoking again. Ugh she hated the smell of cigarette... That's not cigarette smell... Marty's eyes shot open.

She had sat down on the couch after the boys left and closed her eyes, just for a second. And now, she smelled smoke. She jumped out of her seat and followed the stench. It was coming from, the front door.

Marty tentatively reached out and pressed her fingers against the wood of the front door and immediately was met with a painful heat against her skin.

"Oh shit..." Marty hurried about the apartment. She grabbed her cell phone just as the fire alarm of the apartment building sounded off, nearly deafening her.

She headed for her bedroom. She quickly opened the door, only to be met with blinding hot flames.

"AHH!" She let out a scream as the blaze licked at her shirt.

Slamming the door shut as fast as she could she flew to the kitchen and yanked the window open. She looked down. Why oh why did she pick the third floor walk up?

She took a deep breath and lifted one leg over the edge of the windowsill, then the other. She was now on her stomach on the edge of the window, her knuckles going white from gripping the sill. She swung down so now she was just hanging on by her hands. With a small grunt, Marty swung herself out once more and let go of the window.

Sam and Dean rooted through the trunk of the Impala, still parked outside of Marty's apartment building. Suddenly they felt a rush of wind behind them. They looked at each other, and felt another. They straightened and looked around; people were running out of the apartment building as fast as they could.

"What the..." Dean started.

"Oh, God, Marty..." Sam noticed smoke pouring from the building, and it seemed to be coming from her side of the building. Sam started for the building. He got five feet away when...

"SAMMY" Sam stopped and turned around, irritated.

"What?" he asked his brother. But as he turned around, he saw what. Marty was standing beside Dean.

"Climbed out the window." she smiled slightly.

"Ok, we're killing this thing now..." Dean slammed the trunk shut and rounded the car, opening the driver's side door. "Marty, you can either stay here, or come and help us." Dean leaned on the roof of the car and waited for an answer.

His answer came in the form of Marty opening the back passenger side door and sliding in the car.

"Hey," Sam said as he slid into his seat. "You don't have to come Ma-"

"It took me years to collect all those books." Marty said, ending the conversation.

O0O

Real Time

O0O

Dean carried a limp Marty out of the old church. He was stepping off the decrepit porch when he felt her stir.

"Did we," her voice was hoarse, and she started coughing.

"Hey, take it easy, it'll hurt to talk for a while." he advised.

She shifted slightly in his arms and looked up at him, placing a hand around his neck for balance.

"Did we win?" She asked, managing not to cough this time.

Dean swallowed hard as his eyes wandered over the purpling bruises on her neck that were clearly evident even in the faint beginnings of sunrise. The contrast of the purple against her pale, milky white skin made his stomach turn.

"Yeah, yeah we won." He gave her a quick smile. She returned the smile before relaxing again, laying her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

**A/N: **wow, this chapter is loooong. And probably really awkward. It was not easy to write... hope you like it. Please review! I live off of those.


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